Words of wisdom from eighty-year-old toilet attendant and political commentator, Ken Bottie.
When I heard about Jacinda’s plan for a four day working week, I was sceptical.
Admittedly I’m not what you would call an educated man. My schooling ended when I was twelve. I was asked to leave St Cuthbert’s Convent after accidently setting fire to an elderly nun with my Bunsen burner. But even I can do the math. Jacinda plans to short change us a day.
I got to thinking why this might be so. I came to the conclusion that it’s our Fridays she’s after. True, I was thinking while in an enclosed space (stall 3) with some strong bleach fumes, but I think my logic holds up. It hasn’t escaped my notice that her partner is an avid fisherman. The last day of the working week being the traditional day for skiving no-gooders to take a sickie and head out on the water, I’m sure she’s going to pass all our Fridays on to him.
That’s corruption of the highest order.
Furthermore it strikes right at the heart of the working man. I don’t know about you but my Fridays are special. Come four o’clock things get pretty loose here at the Victoria St Gentlemen’s lavatory. We turn up The Breeze FM and dance with our mops. Phil’s salsa has to be seen to be believed.
I just don’t think Jacinda’s thought things through. Has she considered the effect on the relationship between man and wife? Rita and I have had fifty loving devoted years together based on seeing each other as little as possible. We have our systems. If I want to talk to her I have to make an appointment a week in advance. At home she gets the use of the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms and the bathroom; I get the run of the shed out back. On refection that hardly seems fair. I may bring it up in a week’s time after I make an appointment. The point is more time not working means more time at the house increasing the chance of me walking in on her and the young Samoan guy who does our lawns.
Once was quite enough.
I see young Simon Bridges is someone who’s going to have more time on his hands with his demotion this week. I’m no stranger to political reversals myself. Back in ‘97 I was a shoo-in for the presidency of the Auckland Toilet Attendants’ Association when I made the mistake of drinking half a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label at the annual picnic. My impression of an Indian gentleman visiting a brothel brought the house down but was not appreciated by Kumar Patel and his son Rakesh. Things got quite heated in the car park afterwards and I was persuaded to withdraw my candidacy. I hadn’t expected such vindictiveness from fellow countrymen of Gandhi.
Never mind. Politics is a dirty business. I’m glad I clean toilets for a living.
You can follow Ken on Twitter @BottieKen
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